Chapter 8
The garden of Khalid el Bey had been designed to be a haven?of perfect peace. Rectangular in shape, it lay directly behind?the Bey’s villa, a two-story marble building high atop the city?of Algiers. The view from both garden and villa was mag-?nificent, allowing a panoramic vista of the city below with its recently?built Turkish fort-called the Casbah-and the blue Mediterranean?lapping at its feet.
There were orange and lemon trees in the garden as well as tall,?full pines, and roses of every imaginable color. A T-shaped pool,?its longer bar interspersed with spraying fountains, ran the length?of the garden. The paths held carefully raked light gravel, and small?white marble benches were placed at intervals along them. There?were three distinct sounds in the garden of Khalid el Bey. The?tinkling of fountains, bird songs, and the murmur of the breeze in?the pines. Occasionally, the buzzing of a bee intruded itself.
The only human inhabitant of the garden at this moment was a?beautiful young woman who lay dozing on a portable chaise longue.?She wore a simple pale-blue caftan, and her slim feet were shod in?gold leather sandals. Her skin was very fair with the faintest blush?of pink on her cheeks, her eyelids softly shadowed in blue kohl. Her? thick blue-black hair lay curling in gentle disarray about her shoul-?ders.
Khalid el Bey, who had come into the garden from the villa,?stood silently watching the woman. He was a tall man in early middle years, his dark hair just beginning to silver slightly at the sides. His?skin bore a faint golden tint, which set off his short, black beard.?His amber-gold eyes were fringed in long, thick, dark lashes, unusual?in a man but most attractive. Khalid el Bey was neither fat nor thin,?but possessed a firm, well-muscled body which he exercised regu-?larly. His face was oval, the eyes set well apart, the nose long and?aristocratic, the lips thin but still sensuous.
Now, as he stood gazing quietly down on the lovely woman in?his garden, he knew that his instincts had been correct. She was?indeed a great beauty-though when she had been brought to him?two months before, one would not have known it. She had been thin?then, her hair matted and lank. And she had been suffering from?shock. Still, he had seen a valuable jewel beneath the filth, and?despite Yasmin’s objections had bought her for his House of Felicity.
She had healed slowly. He himself had spooned nourishing?chicken broth between her cracked lips during that first week. His?gentleness had communicated itself to her, and it was to him that?she first spoke.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Khalid el Bey.”
“Where am I?”
“You are at my house in the city of Algiers.”
She became silent again. After a moment she ventured, “How?came I here?”
“You were brought to me by Capitan Rais el Abdul. Tell me?now, my beauty, what is
“My name is Skye,” she answered him.
“And where do
Her enormous sapphire-blue eyes seemed bewildered, then filled?with tears. “I don’t know,” she sobbed, “I don’t know where I come?from. Surely this Capitan Rais el Abdul must know.”
Khalid el Bey shook his head. “No. You were transferred to his?ship from another. The first vessel was just going out on a voyage?and hailed the Capitan, who was homeward bound.” Then seeing?the fear in her eyes he spoke soothingly. “Do not be frightened,?beautiful Skye, I am sure your memory will return soon. We know?you are European, for we are speaking French, though your accent?is not that of a native Frenchwoman. Rest now. We will talk again.”
But her memory still had not returned. His Moorish physician?had examined her throughly. Her age was between eighteen and?twenty. She was not a virgin. In fact, she had borne more than one?child. She was free of disease, and had all her teeth. Because the?physician could find no evidence of a head injury, he concluded that the memory loss was due to some terrible emotional shock, and that?her mind refused to remember.
Her beautiful blue eyes, which changed from sapphire to blue-?green as her moods changed, opened now and looked at him.
“My lord Khalid.”
He smiled. “How are you feeling, my beautiful one?” Sitting?down beside her, he caressed her dark hair.
“I am ever so much better, my lord.”
“We must talk now, Skye.”
“Of what, my lord?”
“You know that my name is Khalid el Bey. But I have another?name, Skye. I am called the Whoremaster of Algiers. I own many?houses filled with beautiful women whose very reason for existence?is to please the men who come to visit them. I own the women-?as I own you.”
“You do?!” She was incredulous. “You own me?”
“Yes, Capitan Rais el Abdul bought you from the fust Capitan,?and men he sold you to me.”
“Why did you buy me?”
He smiled. Her memory loss had affected so many areas, in-?cluding her knowledge of worldly things. “I bought you, Skye,?because I intend to train you to be the finest courtesan Algiers has?ever known. Then I will place you in my best house, which is called?Felicity.”
“What must I do, my lord?” “Do you remember nothing of lovemaking?” he shook her head.?He sighed. “I will have to have Yasmin instruct you in certain?matters. Then I will personally instruct you. We will begin tomor-?row, for the doctor has assured me that you are well enough.”
“Yasmin does not like me, my lord Khalid.”
“Yasmin is a slave, like you, Skye. She will do as she is told.?If she should distress you in any way you will tell me.”
“Yes, my lord Khalid. And thank you,” she said softly. “I will?endeavor to learn well so you will be pleased.”
He mused later on her answer. If, as he suspected, she was a?highborn European, then she was also a Christian. Yet the loss of?memory had left her free of both her religion and its ethics. If he?could introduce her to the physical delights of lovemaking and make?it pleasant for her, he could make her the most famous courtesan? since Aspasia. It was a magnificent challenge, and one he was?looking forward to with great enthusiasm.
That evening when Khalid el Bey had finished his meal, he dis-?missed bis “laves and, giving orders to his majordomo regarding his?bed partner of the evening, welcomed the woman who oversaw his most famous brothel. When Yasmin sat opposite him he marveled?at her beauty. He knew she was close to forty. Still, she was a? Circassian, and they were famed as the most beautiful slaves in the?world. He had purchased her over twenty years before from a breed-?ing farm. She had been the first of his special women. Thanks to?her, he had been able to place his business above his competitors.
Brothels in Algiers, for the most part, had been confined to the?waterfront and served sailors of all nations. The wealthy residents?of the city had private harems, and needed no such services. But the?flesh peddlers of the city had overlooked one important market.?Algiers, being the chief city on the north African coast, entertained?many wealthy visitors. These had no women available to them.?Khalid el Bey was the fust to meet that need, and he became famous?doing so.
The women in his House of Felicity were the most beautiful, the?most skilled, and the most entertaining in all of Algiers. There were?no two alike, for Khalid el Bey especially prided himself on offering?variety. Though others had tried to imitate him, they had all failed?miserably, leaving him with the undisputed title of “the Whore-? master.” Not only did he own the House of Felicity, he now also?possessed full or part interest in almost every house of prostitution?in the city.
He was admired and respected by the other businessmen for,?though very shrewd, he was scrupulously honest. Still, few men?really knew the man, and his origins were a mystery. Though many?thought him a Moor, he
